


just please don't leave me guessing

by didnt



Series: messenger bird [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, i will never not write college aus i guess, kind of, this is less 2019 tender tumblr phase for me but like. the influence is still there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 10:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didnt/pseuds/didnt
Summary: Campus is small, George guesses, he’s not sure though, but it seems a bit strange that Dream seems to be everywhere that he is at the same time.Or,Et in Arcadia ego. Five scenes from the dorm room where it all went down, all of varying importance.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: messenger bird [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207055
Comments: 19
Kudos: 124





	just please don't leave me guessing

**Author's Note:**

> if i weren't following the whole 'song lyric from the same song as the sequel' then this would absolutely be titled et in arcadia ego. everyone in the world needs to know that brideshead revisited is my favourite book. i decided to write this at 12 pm today and it may have taken me 8 hours but i got it done.
> 
> regardless, this is something i wrote and edited incredible quickly because ??? i could. and i didn't want to leave 'say the word' without a full story (that's the sequel. i posted it last week. read if if you so please.)
> 
> once again title taken from messenger bird's song by bright eyes, once again i am now going to go pass away

Campus is small, George guesses, he’s not sure though, but it seems a bit strange that Dream seems to be everywhere that he is at the same time.

Like a magnet, George seems to attract Dream to follow his every move.

George doesn’t fully remember where it began, but he knows it was likely at a frat party, and George was likely drunk and Dream definitely wasn’t. There’s worse places, George supposes, for a story to begin, and there are definitely worse stories he could be telling. But he’s bringing this upon himself now by encouraging everything that Dream does afterwards.

Because when George says that Dream is everywhere, he’s only exaggerating slightly. Dream seems to have George’s schedule mostly memorised with the way that he always knows when to show up, when to turn the corner and catch George in some brief conversation that goes nowhere but ignites something between the two of them. Or at least that’s what George’s brain tells him, both at the time and in retrospect.

Some would call Dream’s behaviour creepy, and maybe stalker-ish. George simply prefers to call it endearing, and occasionally sweet if he’s in an especially good mood. George is also finding himself growing weary from all these years of being quiet and unreadable, so maybe he’s just getting soft. That’s probably not something he should think of himself when he’s in his early twenties, but there are greater issues for someone to have.

And he’d be lying to say that he’s never considered anything with Dream, their first meeting is a great indication of that.

Regardless, George has also now come to notice when Dream happens to be absent, as bizarre as that sounds. He’s somewhat like a pleasant nuisance that’s basically become a part of George’s daily routine. While it’s not exactly the perfect scenario to have a campus stalker, which George’s friends call him because George doesn’t call him that, there are certainly worse things to have happened to George while he’s been in school.

In fact, if anything this is flattering.

His opinion would probably differ if Dream weren’t Dream, because he’s charming in an excited, awkward way and he’s also decently attractive so, really, George could do worse when it comes to stalkers in general. That’s why George doesn’t mind when Dream follows him around like a lost puppy, not even bothering to ask where George is going, just following.

This is why George gets suspicious when he goes a whole few days without Dream at his trail. And the logical explanation is that one of Dream’s friends took one for the team and told him his behaviour wasn’t actually normal, or maybe he just moved on. Or he’s busy. George can’t believe he’s even contemplating this, because it should be the last thing on his mind, but there it is. In the forefront. His brain betrays him now and then.

Because while it’s less than convenient, George likes the attention and to some extent he likes Dream. If he were more forward, or blunt, they would probably be friends already. Dream likes to strike up some conventional conversation about the weather, or music, or movies that came out lately and George doesn’t mind, he’ll engage in them. But he also knows that there’s no use pushing it. It’s rather annoying really.

The sun is borderline blinding when he gets out of class that day, and whilst it’s an anomaly for Dream not to be there, George has gotten over it. And he can’t really see when he gets out, everything seems blurry and unclear after being in the dark room with the blinds shut. It seems refreshing, it seems like he’s unable to make out what’s ahead of him. The path around campus keeps winding and winding.

And there’s a chill in the air, because although they’re in the very early stages of autumn, George can always tell when it’s oncoming. The leaves haven’t quite started to change in any noticeable way, at least noticeable to George, and things seem the same as always. This happens every year, obviously, the weather starts to change, and so do the layers the students wear and the grass starts to crunch under his feet. But it feels different now.

Maybe it’s the oncoming stress of getting older, something that’s been lingering in the back of his mind since he acknowledged that this is going to be his last year of education before he’s thrust head first into the real world of work, and actually paying off his student debt. Shockingly, he knows in his heart he’s not going to do anything to compensate for that this year, and doesn't feel a need to do anything other than pass his classes.

If anything he’s glad to get it all over with, if he’s going to be completely honest.

And maybe it’s that fear of getting older, or maybe it’s the fact he knows that everything is going to change soon. He has a feeling in his gut that something’s going to happen and that it’s going to happen soon. It’s like the feeling of being watched but all the more stronger. Deep in the pit of his stomach there’s excitement and anticipation alongside all the other feelings.

But this is just a regular Wednesday where he goes to class before going back to his dorm to study.

He thinks, vaguely to himself, that maybe he should start bringing a coat to class alongside his bag. He doesn’t think about anything interesting these days, and he feels washed up despite still being a kid in most people’s eyes. He feels like a kid sometimes.

He feels like less of a kid when he gets back to his dorm though, when he throws his bag onto his bed and walks over to open his window. Despite the slight chill, he’s convinced that the heating in the building is messed up because it’s always too hot, something suffocatingly so, and George could never really stand the heat. 

He shoves his books onto his desk, because he knows that he actually needs to study today, and it’s easier for him to do so if he just doesn’t give himself breaks, doesn’t allow himself to be lazy. There’s essays to write, and exams in the distant, but simultaneously not so distant, future that he needs to concern himself with.

He’s still shocked sometimes that there’s things to do. He supposes that’s growing up.

And he can feel the breeze from his open window and half hear the conversations going on underneath it, because no one’s ever quiet. They have no need to be. Save for George of course, who’s always been too quiet for his own good, never quite having the right words to say at any given point. He’s sick of having to formulate sentences, he thinks as he plans out his essay, sick of saying things.

If life is a game, and it’s looking that way, George seems to be settling for second or third place. And that’s fine. He’s never been one to take all the glory.

Dream is, he thinks. He knows that better than anything else he knows about Dream, because he’s seen him in action, seen the way he dominates the presence of every room he’s in. It’s a crush at best, and a horrifically genuine attraction at worse. And George knows he could probably do something about it, because at this point Dream is twice as interested in George, but George isn’t sure. He’s never sure what he wants either. He wants everything, and if he can’t have that then he won’t have anything.

And sometimes Dream seems like he could be everything. And sometimes that thought intimidates George.

When they first met, Dream told George he’d seen him around campus. George isn’t sure if he’d seen Dream before that moment, but he’s sure, he knows, that he’s so aware of him now. It’s hard not to be. He’s not pining, he’s just acknowledging the truth of the matter. Dream had called him pretty, and George had chalked it up to drunken over confidence until he found out that Dream doesn’t drink. Then he chalked it up to a spur of the moment move.

And Dream, the gentleman he was and is, offered to walk a slightly not sober George back to his dorm. And the definitely drunken George agreed. He’s half shocked it didn’t go anywhere when around half an hour before he had his tongue down Dream’s throat, however he isn’t complaining all that much with the fact Dream left him at his door, with a smile and a ‘see you later.’ He was probably too drunk for either of them to enjoy anything, anyway.

And afterwards, Dream proved sincerely that when he says ‘See you later,’ he means it. The night is slightly blurry in George’s memory, which is his own fault. But still.

Now Dream’s just around. George knows he remembers it fully but he never brings it up. George knows that if Dream brings it up, he’d probably ask to pick up where they left off. But George is an idiot a lot of the time, so really he moves on from that.

And it hasn’t escaped him that he’s currently supposed to be focusing on studying, but instead his head has been fully occupied by Dream. And again, it’s just a crush. A schoolyard crush that doesn’t necessarily need to go anywhere. George isn’t even sure if he wants it to go anywhere, but there it is. Pressing on his chest.

It’s odd, it always has been, but it’s there. And George isn’t a romantic, he’s never sure how to approach these situations because half of the time they don’t work out, and end in awkward silences rather than screaming fits. He thinks maybe anger would be easier a lot of the time, but it’s when they end in unfamiliarity and loss that was never necessary. It’s what initially scared George off from pursuing anyone this year, it just so happens that Dream is trying to pursue him in this scenario.

But he doesn’t want to blow things out of proportion, because Dream is just kind of there. He’s around. George isn’t sure if he actually likes Dream, although he has a sneaking suspicion that that’s the case, or if he’s just starting to want someone there. It’s been so long since he’s had someone like that in a serious sense. He feels pathetic.

He barely gets any work in like he intended to before he hears a knock on the door of his room, persistent and loud and George isn’t actually sure who it is.

He’s, shockingly, surprised when it ends up being Dream. He reacts this way upon seeing it’s him because while Dream is around all the time, he’s never come to see George here. When George opens the door, he doesn’t really know what to say either. He stands there and wonders if he even looks presentable in the slightest.

Dream is standing there with a cocky smile plastered across his face, and George just looks up at him slightly confused, but never too confused.

“Hi?” George begins, and maybe it’s the way he talks that’s kept Dream from ever actually doing anything more than engaging in small talk.

“Hi!” Dream’s smile turns into a grin when George speaks, “Are you busy right now?” He asks George, and George looks back to the book that’s been barely read, and the notebook that has equally as little written in it.

“No, not really. What’s up?” And Dream’s grin grows wider and wider.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee or something?” He asks George, and George’s brain has never really been connected to his tongue because in the moment he can only blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Oh, I don’t like coffee.” And if Dream’s smile falters, George isn’t able to see it.

“Me neither, but it was the only thing I could think of that was casual enough that it wouldn’t seem like a date initially,” Dream confesses, and he’s being blunt. George has never been used to blunt, but Dream clearly is. In every interaction he has he tells George whatever he needs to hear at that point to keep it going. 

George pauses.

“So, can I come in?” Dream then asks, gesturing to George’s empty room. 

The bed is unmade and he’s sure there’s a mess everywhere. If he’d known he would have tidied up, but he didn’t know.

He realises that the reason that Dream has been away for these past few days was probably because Dream was working up to this, and it’s as sweet and endearing as it is when Dream follows him around campus.

“Yeah sure.”

\--

The first thing George knows is that there’s someone in bed with him, and that they’re keeping him warm.

There’s also sunlight streaming through the places his curtains can’t block it out, and he feels satisfied with his nights sleep. That part is possibly the most jarring because George hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in god knows how long. Maybe that just means he needs to get laid more often, actually. He won't put too much thought into that, though, because George has managed without getting laid regularly for the majority of his academic life, and can continue that.

But the body pressed up against him pulls George closer to his chest, and George can hear him snore. In his sleepy, barely aware state, his brain struggles to register that it’s Dream’s arms that he’s currently waking up in. Even when George does register this, it’s a struggle to bring himself to feel any way other than pleasantly content about it. Dream’s hold is firm, and it’s keeping him in a comfortable position.

He’s snoring quietly, clearly still deep in sleep and George just smiles. There’s not a lot to think about, really. He feels strange, because he’s been hanging out with Dream for a few weeks now, and it’s not like this was ever out of the question. In fact, he’s sure the both of them expected it, but it’s still nice. And Dream stayed.

Not that it’s strange, but it still warms George’s heart in a way he never cares to admit to. He’s far too used to people leaving. He doesn’t want that to continue.

He’s in a state between conscious and unconscious when he lies there, and even though he may not be in the most comfortable position he could be lying in, he still feels oh so content. There are people outside talking and George’s heart speeds up as he briefly panics about class before remembering it’s a Sunday. Day of rest, he can give himself this.

He can give himself a break from everything that’s been going on, though he’s not quite sure what that is. He feels the stress that’s been so all consuming for a while now start to dissipate, start to fall off his back and onto the floor. He smiles to himself, and presses his back further against Dream’s chest, tangling their legs together.

He didn’t expect this from the get go, but he can’t say that he’s unhappy. Especially when the golden light that peaks through the curtains casts them in colours that will live in George’s hazy memory forever. He knows that. George knows, but he’s not quite sure how, that this morning is more important than all the others, and thanks God, or whatever is out there, that he’s gotten a chance to be here.

The sheets have fallen down to his hip throughout the night, and with the open window and the lack of clothes you’d think George would be shivering, but he isn’t. He feels warm outside and in. 

And it’s not long before Dream does wake up, George can feel it with the way Dream moves closer and tightens his hold, trying to grasp onto sleep in the same way he’s grasping onto George. He wants to say something, say good morning or anything along those lines, but his throat is dry and he’s sure that words would just seem out of place here.

To George’s surprise, the first thing Dream really does when he’s waking up is lean down to press faint, dry kisses to George’s shoulder, holding him in place. George turns slightly to let Dream know he’s also awake, and Dream helps him twist fully so he can tuck his head underneath Dream’s chin. He fits into place like a jigsaw puzzle and his heart swells.

He told himself not long ago that he wasn’t sure if he wanted this, and he’s still unsure. He doesn’t know how far he’s going to let this go, but for now he’s content. 

After what feels like a few centuries, but George knows is only a few minutes, Dream speaks up, his hand running up and down George’s back comfortingly, like he’s always done this. Dream feels like he’s always been here, that the too small bed has always been occupied by the both of them. He can hear it in the way the building creaks and moans in the night, moving with age.

George has been aging alongside it.

“Hi,” Dream murmurs, his fingers imprinting on George’s skin as George only moves in closer, humming quietly in lieu of an actual response. “Sleep well?”

George mumbles some form of affirmation as he presses light kisses over Dream’s throat. It feels, if no other words can put it quite as well, soft. The lighting is soft, Dream’s hands feel soft against him, and he feels perfectly okay for the first time in a while. He could definitely get used to this.

And he hopes this morning is the first of many, but he doesn’t bother to say that out loud.

“Are you always this cute when you wake up?” Dream asks, and his laugh is warm and feels closer to home than anything George has ever heard before, “You’re so sleepy!” And George doesn’t quite get it, doesn’t quite understand what’s so special about this because it’s not like anyone else has bothered to comment on that before. But he can tell Dream is beaming down at him, and he just moves closer.

“Shush, I’m just affectionate,” George murmurs quietly and he feels like he’s discovered something that’s been right in front of him for a while now. He feels like the world was caving in before this, but he’s fine, he’s gotten over it. It’s continuing to spin. Although, George thinks, maybe he wouldn’t mind if it stopped spinning for a moment so George could live here for a little while longer, just exist in Dream’s arms.

Maybe it’s just the longing for someone’s arms around his shoulders that exists within him, and how funny it’ll all seem when it’s over. How silly. But there’s Dream, and of all people to go to bed with him, of all the people in the world to wake up here, he’s one of the better options. Because he’s enamoured with George, maybe, or because George knows he’s not going to leave when he first gets the change. 

Maybe it’s because Dream fits in here better than anything else has for George in a long, long time.

“And I think the fact that you’re so affectionate is cute,” Dream laughs again, and moves to press a kiss to the top of George’s head. It feels like the hundredth time they’ve done this although it’s only the first. He feels like he grew up on the same street as Dream. Feels as if they’ve been around each other their entire lives.

Maybe it’s moving too fast. Maybe it isn’t.

George wants him to stay forever, though. Or as close to forever as college students can get to forever. A month will do.

“Do you need to be anywhere today?” George asks him, his voice is still sleep soft, and slightly hoarse from being mildly dehydrated, and the fact that maybe his throat had been slightly abused the night before. He doesn’t mind all that much, and he’s been in worse states, in harsher mornings after harsher nights.

Dream shakes his head, “Mmh, no. Do you?” He asks, and he’s holding George so close that he can hear Dream’s heart beating. He doesn’t know what to think.

“No,” George hums, and moves closer, “I was wondering if you wanted to stay. Just for a little while. You can head home if you want, but I like your company.”

And he hears Dream pause, and hears him wait for a moment.

“You want me to stay?” Dream asks.

George nods.

“For how long?” And George shrugs again, thinking for a moment.

“However long you like.” Stay forever, George means to say.

And Dream does.

\--

It all lasts a lot longer than George ever anticipated it to.

In fact, it’s now around mid-December, and George is getting ready to fly home for Christmas when he’s back at his dorm with Dream. He’s doing last minute studying while Dream lies in his bed, buried in blankets upon blankets and wearing what George could consider too many clothes.

“Oh my god, you’re so from Florida,” George laughs slightly when he turns to face Dream, and Dream just scowls.

“It’s cold! I can’t help that I didn’t grow up with it like you did. Isn’t Britain basically cold ninety percent of the year?” He asks, and George shakes his head. He’s deeply considering just ditching his books and going back to bed, but knows he has actual responsibilities to deal with. After that, though, he’s going to join Dream.

“I’m from the South. It’s warmer there.” George hums, “But I guess it’s still cold in, like, the winter.” He turned in his chair to face Dream. It’s calm outside and George has finally started to close the window upon Dream’s request. Dream also basically lives in George’s dorm, because Dream has a roommate who doesn’t quite appreciate the fact that George is always around.

They border on inseparable most days, and while that’s acceptable in George’s eyes, it’s not really for the people who surround them. He thinks they should just grow up and mind their own business, but he’s biased, because he’s the one who’s getting to enjoy being by Dream’s side every single day. It’s a lot more pleasant than he’s ever anticipated.

“You know you’re going to have to stay and live here in America. There’s no way I’m going to survive over in the UK,” And something tugs at George’s heart, the way that Dream sees a future together as a certainty rather than a possibility. It’s not something George hasn’t ever considered, sure, but it’s all seemed so distant and hypothetical.

You see, it’s easy to push the idea of graduating and moving on out of George’s mind for most of the year, because there’s still plenty of time to go before that happens, but that time is dwindling now and George isn’t sure how long he’s going to be able to keep up the facade that this is forever, these halcyon days are l not just fleeting and are instead the permanent life, stuck in some bizarre pleasant Groundhog day where he gets to live a life with Dream.

“Yeah? What if I can’t handle the Florida heat?” George asks, and he’s basically abandoned all his work at this point, content to turn around and just talk to Dream. He hasn’t moved into bed yet because maybe that’s too far and too obvious, he wants to maintain the image that he could possibly be working hard. 

Dream shrugs, under all those layers, “Then we’d move somewhere slightly colder. America’s a lot bigger, there are a lot more options when it comes to climate.” He tells George, and George smiles slightly, realises how considerate this all is. His heart is melting, and it’s breaking at the same time. 

“That’s very kind of you. I think I could definitely live with that.” And Dream smiles at him, warm and personable and it’s the smile that George has always loved. One that Dream basically has reserved for him now. Their friends, mutual or not, are sometimes pretty perplexed by their dynamic, how comfortable they are around each other already. It’s bizarre, they’ll say.

And it’s strange in some ways, the way they’ve already molded together to become one, and sometimes you can’t quite tell where one ends and the other begins. Sometimes their minds are connected, and sometimes they talk of marriage and other days they talk about what they’re going to do the next day. The future is here, and it’s distant, and it’s everything and nothing. Just like George wants it to be.

George has so many thoughts regarding Dream that sometimes it stings a little. And this all makes it so much easier. America is big. He can find Dream wherever they are in life, and he knows he will.

“Well, yeah. Besides, I think you like it here. Everyone thinks your accent is cute,” Dream points out, and George rolls his eyes, and goes back to working, might as well get something done.

“Shut up,” He mumbles, copying something down that he’d highlighted from a textbook and he hears Dream laugh. His heart breaks again and again until he’s not sure there’s much to salvage. He doesn’t mind. He can hear, despite the closed window, the birds outside chirping. The seasons pass as quickly as days now, or at least that's how it feels. But Dream stays, in the centre of it all. Waiting.

It hasn’t snowed yet, but he has a feeling it will. He just has an inkling about these kinds of things now. Maybe he’s been here too long.

The words don’t make too much sense on the paper in front of him, even though they probably should, but George can easily chalk this up to being weary of daily life, which he’s felt for a little while. Dream eases it, for the most part, because it’s a break in the monotony. A break from the difficulties of everyday life where George just gets to enjoy himself.

Because now he has someone who will kiss him when he’s feeling down, and someone who’s clothes he can steal. He’s got someone who’s not going to break him and leave him for worse off, but instead someone who’s here for good. It’s selfish, and George tells Dream that sometimes, that really George isn’t acting for the both of them sometimes. He feels bad about it.

Dream just shakes his head and tells George it’s fine, and he’s loyal like a dog sometimes because George doesn’t think Dream would ever wrong him, ever hurt him. And sometimes it’s the knowledge of that that hurts the most, that one day George might hurt Dream and it’ll be undeserved. He wants the future, and he’s not sure he’s going to get it. But he’s going to remain hopeful, because sometimes hope is all you can have.

“Are you coming to bed?” Dream asks eventually, when George looks his most tired and worn out, and George just nods.

He climbs off his chair and comes and collapses into bed, tucked under the sheets with Dream, and groans softly, “God, you’re so warm. Why the fuck do you need to use all my blankets when you’re this warm?” 

Dream chuckles low in his throat, and pulls George so he’s lying basically on top of him. The desk light is still on, but George knows he’s past the point of no return and decides to settle, decides to just lie down and let the day go. His head is pressed against Dream’s chest and the steady beating of his heart keeps them both alive and content. 

It’s quiet save for the noises in the surrounding dorm rooms. It’s calm.

“So you’ll be back home for Christmas?” Dream asks him, voice quiet as if not to disturb George in whatever he’s been doing, and George nods with a quiet hum.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, his voice just as soft as he’s starting to relax, “I fly out in a couple weeks. Why? Gonna miss me too much?” George teases, turning to press kisses to Dream’s jaw. He loves times like these, when he allows himself to simply be, and he knows Dream loves the attention just as much.

“Maybe a little,” Dream confesses, and tilts George’s head up so he can kiss him properly. It’s always gentle, and always careful. George hasn’t had anything careful in so long, and it consumes him from every which way. He just wants Dream. He always has.

There’s a game here that he’s still not quite figured out the rules to, but he knows he’s in first place now. No more settling for bronze or silver. He smiles against Dream’s lips.

“Promise to call me, okay? Because I can go without cuddling you for a few weeks, but I can’t go without talking to you.” And George feels the same, can’t imagine going without Dream for any time at all.

“Promise.” 

And he does. For then at least, he promises.

And the night is still cold, because of course it is, when it has no reason not to be. The wind blows harshly outside as it gets later and later into the evening, Dream holding George tighter and tighter against his chest.

“Still cold?” George asks, when Dream is starting to settle for the night, and Dream shakes his head.

“No, you’re helping keep me warm.” And George smiles, wraps his arms tightly around Dream until they start to merge. 

The earth stands still for a moment.

\--  
“Hurry up,” George whines softly because he’s half naked and Dream isn’t fucking doing anything.

And Dream likes to make George wait, George has noticed that, because it riles him up. And George somewhat hates Dream for this, hates that this is how it happens all the time. It’s never enough for George, because he wants everything that Dream could ever give him and he never gets it, never can get it all. Dream knows this, he’s always known. George wants to scream at him sometimes that he needs this, but it’s useless.

Despite George’s current state of complete and utter disarray, he should also note that Dream isn’t exactly doing the best either, because he’s got an expression on his face that George has never been able to read, but he sees it every time they do this, every time they pull each other to bed because they’ve been having a stressful day, or even just a less than average day. They’re good at keeping each other sane, and this is just another method they use to do that.

Dream runs a hand through his own hair, pushing it out of his face. It’s getting long, and George likes it that way. He doesn’t ever want any of this to change.

“You’re so fucking impatient,” Dream breathes out, half of a laugh coming out as he does so, watching George carefully, and George wants to just pull the sheets back over himself because he’s never been able to handle the way Dream looks at him. It’s all too intense, all too vague. There’s something there behind his eyes, and it’s something he hasn’t seen before. Or maybe it’s something he doesn’t remember seeing. He doesn’t want to recognise it because he’s scared of what it might be.

“I’m only impatient because you tease me.”

George’s hand is on his own dick, moving at a leisurely place as he looks up at Dream. Dream is between his legs and there’s not much they can do for space because the bed is only twin sized and hardly built for the both of them, but they make it work. They’ve been making it work for months now at this point.

“And I only tease you because you’re impatient,” Dream grins when he leans down slightly, presses a kiss to the corner of George’s mouth. It’s soft, because somehow they always find a way to be soft, but it’s not enough yet. “I can’t help it that you get so desperate so quickly. Plus,” He moved his hand to George’s hip, digging his fingers in there, “I have all the time in the world.”

It’s true because he’s managed to get Dream over on a weekend where neither of them have any other plans or places to be. It’s nice. The window is open because it’s the beginning of spring and the cool breeze sends goosebumps over George’s bare skin, “Well sure, but it’s not fair.” He considers starting to pout at Dream to get what he wants. 

He doesn’t have to though, because Dream has finally decided to do something, pulling George’s hips up and spreading his legs slightly more. Every one of their movements is somewhat lazy, there’s a slow pace because Dream is taking his time, and despite George’s need for more, he can go along with that. He has plenty of time, he repeats in his head.

He watches when Dream reaches for the lube, before letting his head fall back onto his pillow. He’s allowed to enjoy this, because this is for him. This is his reward for God knows what, at this point, but he’s sure he deserves this. Maybe if he keeps repeating it it’ll start to come true.

He feels cold fingers pressed against his hole, and it’s a contrast to the way somehow Dream is always warm, it always catches him off guard. His throat makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a sigh, and he knows Dream heard him because Dream always listens carefully, he likes to hear George. George never quite rewards him with the satisfaction of ever being too loud.

“You okay?” Dream asks, before he even pushes his fingers in and he’s always so attentive. George doesn’t know how he ever got here.

“I’m great, just do something,” His tone is a little more insistent than he had hoped it would be, but he’s somewhere past the point of caring now. Plus, it’s nothing compared to the pleased noise that escapes his throat when Dream pushes his fingers in. It’s not quite slow, but it’s slow enough for George to start pushing his hips back, quiet curses spilling from his lips, and a few murmurs of Dream’s name.

“You’re so needy,” Dream mumbles, and there’s some amount of wonder in his voice mixed in with the arousal, and it makes George push back on Dream’s fingers even quicker, “Fuck, George.”

Somewhere in the events leading up to this point, George has stopped touching himself and has resorted to gripping his hands in the sheets. He’s always been shockingly sensitive, and now Dream knows this better than he probably should. To make matters worse, Dream wraps his hand around George and starts to move it in time with his fingers, and George feels as if he’s going to finish here before he even really begins.

“Dream,” George whimpers, and he’d be embarrassed about it in any other situation, but he’s already so far gone, and he thinks he says please a few times but he’s not sure what he’s asking for. He’s sure Dream knows, though, because Dream nods, and pulls his fingers out to lube them up again, before pushing three inside George.

It’s an ideal stretch for George, who’s alternating between fucking into Dream’s fist or back onto his fingers, and he feels horrifically exposed, his jumper only rising up slightly past his stomach, but he always feels so naked in front of Dream. Sometimes it feels too personal, but Dream has already been inside him too many times to count, so really he should’ve set the boundaries regarding what is and isn’t too personal a long time ago.

When he finally lifts his head to look at Dream, he’s very aware of the way he probably looks. He knows he becomes a complete mess in moments like this, when he finally starts to feel as if it’s too much and he’s going to burst. But his heart just thuds. He thinks about the way Dream looks at him when he’s like this, and wonders if he looks at Dream the same way. Unconditional adoration.

He wants to cry, but he rarely does.

Dream looks as far gone as George does though, and he always looks amazed when they do this, despite the fact that it’s a pretty regular occurrence for the most part. He always looks at George as if he’s the only thing in the world that’s ever existed, and George never wants to stop feeling that way. He loves feeling like that for Dream, like he’s important, like he’s greater than he is. 

He reaches a hand up to cup Dream’s face, then moving it back into his hair and pulling him down into a kiss. Every single time he does this he feels as if he’s floating. He’s not sure if he should anymore, isn’t sure if this whole thing is gone too far and if he’s in over his head. He isn’t sure of much of anything anymore, but he won't take it for granted. He mumbles Dream’s name quietly against his lips, and he says it like a secret, like he’s never supposed to tell anyone about this.

He thinks about the future, he thinks about Dream, and he thinks about the way he doesn’t want to think at all anymore. Not for another while.

Dream crooks his fingers inside George, and his hips rise up. He whines into Dream’s mouth and holds him there. None of this has ever felt real, not the first time or this time, but he feels so lucky. He wants to tell Dream this, but instead he just cries out, “Shit!” And calls it a day. He can talk about his feelings some other time when he’s in less of a predicament.

He can feel Dream smile, and George tugs on his hair to stop him from getting too cocky. “You’re being so good,” Dream tells him, “So patient.” And George forgets now and then what praise does to him, but he can never forget it when Dream is the one praising him, making him feel as if he’s worthy of such a thing.

“Thanks,” He stutters out as Dream’s head moves down to kiss his neck, and there’s nothing to muffle his quiet moans anymore as Dream continues to finger him, continues to break him in a way he’s never been able to resist. It’s always so, so much, almost too much, but yet it’s never enough and he keeps asking for more. He’s been good, he deserves something more.

“You ready?” Dream asks, his voice soft as he leaves a mark somewhere on George’s neck. George just nods, and tries not to think about how caring Dream is, how careful he’s always been. He does so much that George doesn’t feel deserving of, and then tricks George into feeling as if it is deserving. He knows how deep in he’s fallen now, but isn’t sure if he’s ever going to be able to do anything about it.

Dream pulls his fingers out, and takes his hand away, and suddenly the loss of contact is so plainly evident to George who whimpers at the loss of touch. He watches Dream pick up the lube left haphazardly on the sheets, next to the towel they laid down because they’ve learned from past mistakes where they had to wash George’s sheets when George would much rather just sleep.

And Dream knows him well enough to know how the fact he’s drawing this out, slowly squeezing the lube onto his fingers, and letting George just watch as he strokes himself, well, it just drives George mildly insane. Too much, too much, repeats over and over in his brain like a chant. He thinks there might be words stuck in his throat now, but there’s not enough time to say them.

“Fuck, hurry up,” George groans, and he can’t take his eyes off Dream, never can. Even in more chaste situations, he could stare at Dream for hours. He’s not here enough, George thinks, and he can’t spend enough time admiring him because he always notices new details, new freckles and marks. A scar on his knee from cutting it as a kid, like a photograph of a life that George was never in but wishes he was. Wishes he grew up with Dream, that he’d always been there. But he hasn’t.

Dream tuts, rubbing the excess lube over George’s entrance again, “I keep telling you to be patient. It’s not a race, you can take your time,” And George nods, wanting to be good for Dream as bizarre as it sounds to him when he’s not in this state. He thinks he can hear his own heartbeat, fast and erratic, and he hopes Dream can’t hear the way it’s just gradually speeding up.

There’s a confession on the tip of George’s tongue, and he could probably say it and just change everything but he’s not sure if he ever will, if he even can. It’s a pretty inopportune time to realise it, when Dream looms over him, and he’s naked from the waist down, and at some point is considering whether or not he needs to beg to make something happen. He wants this so bad, and he wants everything Dream could possibly have.

He doesn’t just want Dream right now, he wants Dream’s past, and wants his future. He wants the life that Dream’s going to lead. He makes a mental note to himself to never let Dream live that life without him, because he wants them to share it. He’s rather possessive when he makes himself promise quietly that he’s never going to let Dream go, unless Dream wants that. And with the look of utter care that’s shining in Dream’s eyes, George doesn’t think that’s going to be an issue.

“Please,” George looks up at Dream with big eyes that convey what words can’t, he hopes they do at least, and then he repeats himself, voice quiet and pleading. “I-” He thinks about what he’s about to say, and sometimes things slip out when they’re not supposed to. Sometimes the right things slip out at the wrong time. “I need you.” He tells Dream, and hopes Dream doesn’t look too much into what he really means.

“I know,” Dream says, and he leans forward, kisses George and goes to push in. It feels intimate, because it always does. More intimate than anyone else George has been with and he can never place his finger on why, on what makes Dream so different. But Dream is different, he always has been. He’s always been so much more than George ever anticipated him to be. He doesn’t know why he continues to be shocked by it.

And when Dream pushes in it’s more than George can bear, the intrusion feeling like so much more.

Dream is big, and it’s not like George doesn’t know this, he’s very clearly had experience with it. However, it always feels as if his entire being is being taken over by Dream, he’s being consumed and surrounded. It’s the reason why he always misses this when it’s over, and it’s the reason why he can never find himself getting enough. It’s always been far more perfect than it has any right to be.

And Dream’s lips against his don’t help the feeling of everything and nothing, because it grounds him, makes it feel so real. Dream bottoms out and George wraps his legs tightly around Dream’s torso, using his heels to keep Dream there. George has a hand gripped in Dream’s hair, keeping them face to face and his other hand screwed up in the bedsheets. He thinks to push back against Dream but isn’t sure if he can.

“God,” He keens, his lips falling from Dream’s with a quiet whine, “Thank you, fuck, Dream.” He’s only ever capable of the most basic sentences, especially when Dream’s spent a while getting him to this point. He’s only ever capable of saying Dream’s name, along with various vulgarities that don’t mean all that much, by the end of it. He hopes Dream realises that, that he’s the only thing on George’s mind.

“Well done,” Dream’s voice is quiet. It’s a secret like everything else, “You’re so good,” He praises George again, using one of his hands to rub circles into George’s hips. 

George feels as if he’s never really lived before this, then thinks that he’s definitely exaggerating. 

“You can move,” His voice borders on a whisper as he looks up at Dream, and then decides to repeat himself, “Please move.” He’s bordering on being aware that he shouldn’t be too loud, because the walls are thin and his neighbours probably despise him at the rate these things happen, but he doesn’t mind all that much when Dream does start to move and he allows himself to let out a high pitched noise from somewhere in his throat.

His brain is kind of everywhere and nowhere when it happens, because there’s a lot going on. He wants Dream to have his way and use him, but wants Dream to do everything George says too. He wants Dream to fulfil his every want and at the same time doesn’t want Dream to have to do that. He wants more than he’s ever going to get, so instead he just cries out and hopes Dream can work out what he means.

George’s head falls slightly, his mouth now pressed against Dream’s shoulder and Dream is picking up the pace, moving quicker and quicker and George is never sure if he’s going to be able to take it all. It’s so much.

“George, shit,” Dream mutters, and his voice seems distant but maybe George is just that far gone, maybe he’s been too far gone this whole time, “You feel so good. So good for me.”

And every mutter of praise that falls from Dream’s lips goes straight to George’s heart first, and then his dick, which is pressed up against Dream’s stomach. The touch is almost more than he can handle. He looks back up at Dream with those same wide eyes he always uses, and nods. He knows he’s good, he always is even when he plays more dangerous games like this. 

“So d’you,” Is all George can respond with, because his ability to speak is quickly beginning to deteriorate, and so is the room around him as everything falls away until it’s just Dream, and maybe it’s always been Dream. When Dream stalls after he pushes in, George can feel his pulse. It’s quick, but nowhere as quick as George’s is. It feels so real to be alive.

“Fuck,” George sobs when Dream changes his angle and speeds up. He feels good, so fucking good, and he starts to move his hips back as best he can to keep up with Dream, meet all of his movements.

Although George never feels quite as alive as he does in moments outside of this, there’s still an inherently surreal nature to the scene as it plays out. The way that every time Dream moves George feels an utter sense of wonder that he’s getting this at all, and in the way that George always feels as if he’s about to shatter like fine china. He’s an artifact, and Dream takes good care of him but he’s so fucking delicate that sometimes he can’t even handle that care.

They’re a wonder of the ancient world, and they’re going to crumble soon, George can feel it. Like the hanging gardens, the people will wonder if anything was there to begin with at all. But George banishes those thoughts, and instead thinks about the way that Dream is gripping his hips tightly like he’ll never let George go, like George is a treasure to never be given up. 

He doesn’t want Dream to ever give him up, he thinks. Doesn’t think he could ever handle that if it happened.

“You’re such a good boy,” Dream whispers to him, and George just whimpers with a nod. He wants more than he’s got and if he can’t have that, then he’s not sure he can take any of this. Like Dream can read his mind, he feels a hand on him, moving in time with each thrust. He wants to roll over and bury his face in his pillow because he knows from this point onwards he’s not going to be quiet.

“Dream,” He keens at the touch, and doesn’t know what to say anymore. He lets himself become completely incoherent. He feels Dream’s skin pressed against his, and he thinks about how much of a mess he must look, how much of a mess he feels and it’s overwhelming. He hears Dream breathe and wonders if Dream is listening into George’s breathing too. Wonders if Dream can tell how alive George feels.

He’s bucking up into Dream’s hand now, and he knows he’s getting closer and closer, that he doesn’t stand much of a chance anymore. He’s been too worked up from the beginning. He knows Dream can tell because he speeds up his hand. Dream can read all of George’s little movements, all the noises he makes and the way he holds onto Dream like he can’t let go, like his life depends on it. He doesn’t ever want to let go, but he doesn’t tell Dream that.

“You close?” Dream asks, although he knows the answer, he always does. George can’t word anything properly anymore so he responds by squeezing his eyes shut and crying out. And Dream knows, still. He gets it.

And it doesn’t take long before Dream thrusts in particularly hard, and George hears himself sob as he begins to cum over Dream’s hand. He feels filthy, but he can’t be bothered to care as Dream fucks him through it. He feels overwhelmed as he always does, and he feels as if the moment is consuming him. 

And as he lays there completely spent, he barely notices as Dream finishes, just lets him, and pulls him down into another kiss when it happens. It’s all a mess. Outwardly and within. 

Dream looks at him like he hung the stars last night, like he could dismantle them all if he needs to. And George? Well George isn’t sure anymore. He isn’t sure of much of anything these days.

He feels tired, exhausted even, and he just wants Dream. Maybe that’s enough.

Dream holds him after they’re cleaned up, and gets comfortable. George has his head against Dream’s chest, listening to his steady beating heart as he feels himself getting tired. He closes his eyes and exhales. 

“Hey,” Dream whispers quietly, and George is about to respond, before Dream continues, “I love you.” And George doesn’t say anything. He just keeps his breathing steady.

If he’s lucky then Dream will think he’s sleeping, and if George is lucky in the morning he’ll chalk this up to his subconscious playing tricks on him. 

\--

George is graduating in a couple weeks.

The thought is bizarre and distant, as he sits by his desk again. It’s approaching summer and the window is back open, but that doesn’t stop the heavy showers that day. He keeps the window open to listen to the rain fall overtime. Grey light streams in to shine against his bed and he’s waiting for something, but he’s not sure what.

He’s waiting for an epiphany, a realisation, but it never comes, and he just listens to it pour and pour outside. It’s passed by too quickly, and just when George is finally getting what he wants, it’s over. The graduation gown and cap are a symbol of something lost, and something that George never wanted to lose. He feels sick to his stomach.

Dream is there, because he always is, and he’s smiling so genuinely that George isn’t sure how he’s going to cope.

“You know, if you ever need to come visit, like, at any time I’ll help pay for the flights,” Dream tells him, not really thinking as he speaks because he still sees the future as an inevitability whereas George is now beginning to see it as only a possibility, a shot in the dark hope that he’s not sure he’ll ever quite be able to fulfil. Dream has fantasies, and George isn’t sure whether they’re going to remain fantasies.

George is wearing this faded hoodie that originally belonged to Dream. He supposes it still belongs to Dream, in the same way George does. He supposes that will never end. It’s huge on him, and Dream struggles not to laugh sometimes when he sees George wearing it, because of the comical size. He’s half sure it’s even oversized on Dream, but doesn’t bother to check. 

And there are words that George has run out of time to say now, words that can now remain unspoken on George’s end until they get back to a better point.

“Yeah?” George smiles, and he’s always been good at acting dumb, playing the part. Nothing needs to be wrong when it isn’t.

“Of course. And, besides, you’d be staying with me anyway.” It’s a future that George wants, a future he needs. He doesn’t want to throw this away.

But the future hangs heavy, and George isn’t sure how long he’s going to be able to cope.

Dream looks happy, he looks excited. George is doing his absolute best to hide all the worry that’s consuming him. What a pair they make. When it gets dark George isn’t even sure if he’ll let Dream stay.

He hears the rain pour.

“You’re going to need to call me like twice a day, too.” Dream grins, “Just to make sure I don’t forget what you sound like. I love your voice too much for that.”

Dream hasn’t actually confessed his love again since that one time to George’s knowledge, but every single time he gets close to doing it George’s heart skips a beat and he gets so worried, doesn’t know what’s about to come.

He can’t say it back, even if he does. Love Dream, he means. Because he does.

And that’s one of the harder aspects of all this. It’s always going to be one of the hardest parts.

The bed is neatly made and because George has been clearing it, the room doesn’t really seem all that lived in anymore.

“I promise.” He doesn’t mean it as much as his last promise.

And when Dream stays that night, George is unsure how he could’ve ever suspected anything to the contrary, he holds George closer than usual. Maybe he can tell that there’s something off about this, that things aren’t as they should be. Maybe he’s just worried like George is.

He murmurs it again, under his breath. He loves George.

George sleepily responds that he knows.

It’s scary, it really is.

Because the world is big, and if George knows anything he knows that, and there’s a chance it’s far too big for George to ever find Dream in it again.

As he remembers the date’s he’s going home, he feels himself slipping.

He feels in his heart, somewhere, that after all this time he’s spent winning, he might be starting to lose again.

**Author's Note:**

> hi thank you for reading!!! i wrote an edited this in the one day, so if it's messy in the slightest simply ignore that.
> 
> if the ending was too sad, or just plain unsatisfying, for you don't worry, there's already a sequel ! it's 20k words and trying its best.
> 
> as always, leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed this and i'll probably reply with my undying gratitude. 
> 
> also you can find me at [didntstand](https://didntstand.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you ever need me <33


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